I became interested in Frank O'Hara through his poetry. I read that he and Larry Rivers, the abstract painter, had an affair. So I picked up Larry Rivers autobiography "What did I Do?" One of the most irritating books to read. I imagine he thought he was abstracting his life in words. What a life: a wife, step-child, biological child and mother-in-law all left behind while he plays his saxophone on the road and explores sex and drugs to the point of addiction.
He met Frank O'Hara at a party of John Ashbery's in 1950. They had an affair and Larry Rivers goes on for almost a chapter on whether his affair with O'Hara was because he was gay or ambitious. Frank O'Hara knew a lot of people. He was very personable. He also worked at MOMA. Rivers concludes that the affair came out of his "need for attention".
The major relationship in Frank O'Hara's life was Joe LeSueur. They lived together for ten years and split up one year before Frank's death.
"Grace, Frank and I had left a party that was going nowhere and were walking across Eighth Street, heading for the Cedar, when Grace suddenly decided she'd had enough of the wimpy little guy who was tagging along. ... he was an abstract painter with a pathetically small red mustache and dim little eyes, and like a number of downtown artists and would-be artists, he never had a one-man show-in short, he was a loser. ... He was staggering, slobbering, slurring his speech from having drunk more than he could hold. Do you think Grace felt sorry for him? No way. Without warning, she hauled off and hit him so hard on the side of the head that he landed in the gutter. "Hey Grace why did you do that?" I asked. "I can't stand a man who doesn't act like a man." She said. I complained about Grace's behavior though I was more amused than appalled. "What are you talking about?" Frank said. "The guy was asking for it."
I'll stick to the poetry. Familiarity breeds contempt.
